


The Strings Which Bind Us

by SourAppleX1



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Depression, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Romance, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, References to Depression, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21765679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SourAppleX1/pseuds/SourAppleX1
Summary: Ever since you were a little girl, you've been an outcast to society. Your life seems like a dull void of emotion. Lately, you live with this recent fear. For months now, you can't seem to shake the feeling of being watched by something. You avoid going home because being alone in that house makes you feel so unsafe and lonely, but what else are you meant to do? Fate would have it that on your birthday, your fears become reality as you are met face to face with a poltergeist, the same poltergeist who had been following you ever since you were a child.
Relationships: Jonathan Blake | The Puppeteer/Reader
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story will have several chapters. I'm going for something a little different from my one-shots, just to give it a try. I might include some dark topics (as are my favorites) but I'll put a warning at the beginning of the chapters for those. Hope you enjoy the story. Ciao~!

_** "The loneliest moment in someone's life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly." ** _

― _F. Scott Fitzgerald_

So many years. It had been so many years that you had been on this Earth- too many now. You couldn’t remember why you kept going these days. Your friends? Already, they were so few in number but when you found yourself in a rut, they vanished like ghosts in the wind. How did it end up like this? Well, you could say that it was always screwed up. From your first memory to your last, you were always on the crevice of society. Maybe that was why, even when you were all alone, you could almost feel the cold shiver up your spine like someone was watching you.  


You didn’t celebrate birthdays anymore. There was nothing to celebrate and no one to celebrate with. The excitement life promised you seemed so far away. Just to get your adrenaline going, you found guilty pleasure in the slums of men and women, in watering holes. The loud music and bright lights dulled your senses and you wandered aimlessly through dancing bodies. Even they didn’t pay you any mind. The bartender didn’t offer you the same smile he offered the others. You didn’t smile back at all.   


When the glass you ordered found its way into your hand, you looked around the room for something. The ice froze your hand through the glass but the sting kept you awake. When you were home, the feeling of loneliness had been oppressive, but when you found yourself here… It was somehow less so. You could forget that when you were kicked out and sent on your way, that you’d open the door to your empty apartment and find no sounds. You could forget that today marked the day of your birth and not a single card made its way into the mail. You could forget that you owned so many party dresses but no one batted an eye. You could forget that creeping feeling of something watching you.

The taste of alcohol burned the back of your throat. This was only your first glass, the first of many. Your eyes scanned the room from beneath your lashes. Under your breath, you muttered the only word you could manage through your thoughts.  
  
“Pointless…”

Years ago, when you had been just a young girl, at least your parents would look at you. Where had that gone?   
  
From the very edge of your gaze, you saw a man moving towards you from across the room. Your eyes narrowed and you turned your back on him before he could get closer. You knew the game well enough by now. He’d ask to buy you a drink, you’d give in, he’d try to take you home… Blah, blah, blah. Another sip and your cup was already getting empty. You were still so thirsty. A quick nod to the bartender and another was on the way. He knew the game too.

The stool next to you moved, its legs scraping against the floorboards with a noise that made you cringe. A sense of guilt and annoyance merged inside you as you ignored the stare of the man who had sat way too close for comfort.   
  
“Hey, baby.” He purred. His breath smelled of alcohol- probably worse than yours did. Turning your head to get a good look at your antagonist, you realized that he was shitfaced. His cheeks were flushed, his blond hair messy with sweat from dancing and his stupid smile made you almost want to slap him.

“I’m not your baby,” You hissed, even your own desire couldn’t make you tolerate him. You knew his intentions. “And keep your money, I have my own.”

As if on cue, another drink was slid in front of you just in time for you to finish your last. Ignoring the hurt and growing irritation on the drunk man’s face, you started on your next sip.   
  
“Don’t be such a bitch, baby. Come on, you know you’re not going to get another chance with a guy like me…” His hand wandered, starting on your thigh. He could feel your body tense up beneath his touch, but he was too far gone to think it through.  
  
You resisted the urge to call him a pig. The urge to slap him, the urge to slam your glass against his head. You knew nothing good would come of it even if the impulsive emotion begged you to. Briefly, you wondered if your drinks at home would be as good as the drinks here.   
  
Taking a long sip from your glass, you rested your hand on his. For the first time tonight, you smiled but it was far from genuine. It was a smile that only a woman who had reached the very end of her wits could have. Your nails dug deep into the bone, you could feel the tear of flesh beneath your claws just as he yelped and pulled back. When he opened his mouth to growl something in retaliation, you cut him off by talking to the bartender.  
  
“How much do I owe you?”

The walk to your house was longer than you were used to. Maybe it was your heels that made your feet feel so sore, maybe it was that you didn’t have enough to drink to numb you from the crisp night air. You forgot your jacket but it was too late to go back for it now, it was probably long gone, snatched right off the stool next to you and comforting some other woman in her time of need.   
  
Worse than the cold was the feeling of being followed. You listened closely but there were no footsteps. There was no one around. The streets were strangely barren, even for the time of night. That didn’t give you any comfort. As much as you wish you could just sum it up to paranoia, over the last few months, you could swear that someone was waiting to get you alone… But if that were really the case, they would’ve had more than enough chances by now.  


Little did you know that you were right about your feelings.

Along the way to your apartment, between the houses were tons of small alleys. Garbage cans and stray cats filled them up, leaving them filthy but warm enough for the homeless to find shelter in the colder of the seasons. What a shame that these weren’t the only things prowling in the shadows.

He had been watching you for as long as you could remember… But of course, you didn’t. He knew even then that you would be the perfect puppet for him. He saw it in your beautiful little face, he saw it when you played alone in your room at night… But he couldn’t have taken you that long ago. You were too young, hadn’t seen enough of the world. People would’ve still _missed_ you. That was the issue with tragedies. _That was the issue with children._ Nobody cares when a full-grown woman with no friends or family disappears in the night… Everyone cares when a child does. That was when he decided that you were worth the wait. After all, all good things come to those who wait.  
  
His lips pulled back into a nasty, golden smile as he watched you make it to the steps of your apartment. You were home at last. You were safe and out of the cold. He knew your routine by now, too. A golden tongue danced along his lips as he recited it to himself.   
  
First, you’d slip yourself out of your party clothes. You’d run a shower to get the filth of the night off of you. That would take you a good hour, most of it spent sighing and thinking before you slipped out and found yourself some more comfortable clothes to unwind in. The rest of the night would be spent with dinner and movies until you eventually fell asleep on the couch.

That was his favorite part of the night. You, helpless and alone, curled up on the couch as he hovered over you. The golden glow of his eyes illuminated your face. You always looked so peaceful to him. He always wondered how beautiful you’d look broken and on a shelf, waiting to be used by him. Another puppet in his collection. Some may have called him a hoarder, but that simply wasn’t true.  
  
“Don’t you worry, my dear…” He whispered to the air. His breath didn’t fog as a human’s would. His voice was static, soft. “I’ll take _wonderful_ care of you…”

Inside, you were fumbling to find your keys. In reality, you were dreading being here. You were so sick of the same thing every day. You were sick of the drowning silence. You were sick of it all. When the cold metal grazed your hand, you held your breath. It was easier to unlock the door when you were thinking about anything else.   
  
Today, for some reason, it felt so much worse. Maybe it was because of the significance of the date, maybe it was just you overthinking it, but you thought you could almost hear someone calling your name when the night winds brushed against the hallway window.   
  
Finally, the lock to your apartment turned with a heavy click and you were let inside. The first few steps were relieving but when you looked around, seeing everything exactly how you left it, you could feel the frown taking your features.  
  
It took you all but a few minutes to get on with your routine, to get ready to shower and settle in when you heard it again. Like a radio crackling and searching for a signal. Like your name suffocated by white noise. It was a voice… But… You didn’t own a radio.

“Hello?” Reaching for a towel, you wrapped it around your body and peeked out from the bathroom. “Uh… Is anyone there?”  


You were hoping that maybe it was your neighbor or your landlord coming to check on you. That wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary, but they would’ve knocked. That’s when the horrible idea coursed through you that maybe someone had broken in- maybe someone _had_ been watching you.   
  
Yet, you waited for a response. Frozen.   
  
Nothing.  
  
There was nothing, no sounds. No footsteps. The only sound you could even pick up on was the howling winds outside. They were growing stronger now. A storm was brewing. You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself, to laugh at how scared you were for no reason as you shut the bathroom door and hopped into the shower.

In your living room, unbeknownst to you, a poltergeist had begun to materialize. A dark cloud morphed and changed into the levitating figure of a man. His hair, which was long, wispy, black and tucked beneath a gray hat, could’ve almost been dirty. His skin was gray and deathly. The only colors to him were the golden strings that seeped out of his fingertips and his matching, sinister eyes.   
  
From the bottom of his throat arose a laugh. Oh, how easy it was to unnerve you. All these years, he watched you slowly drift further and further from society. All these years he waited to strike. What better day than today to make you his new toy?   
  
Like snakes, his threads danced around the floor beneath him, finding places all over the room to nest. The lights flickered and failed, leaving the room only illuminated by him. This would be his birthday gift for you. You’d come out of the shower and he’d whisk you away. Never again would you be alone. Never again would you feel afraid. Your screams would be short-lived once you bowed to his whim.

However, as his patience wore thin, he made the decision to go to you. He waited all this time and now, he was so close. Every step he took made his smile grow wider but just as he reached out one of his gray hands to grab hold of the doorknob, he heard the shower's water stop.


	2. Chapter 2

**_ "Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim." _ **

_― Nora Ephron_

Silence loomed like a thick sheet of fog between himself and the door to the bathroom. One moment, impatience had brought him ever closer to seizing the toy he wanted so badly. The next, he was frozen. His grin had fallen. He, _The Puppeteer_ , had been stopped in his tracks by the mere sound- or lack of- water. The very idea made his lips turn to a nasty grimace.

 _This is just the anticipation_ , he reassured himself. It didn't do much. Emotions, to him, were something only humans trifled with. It was something he could control and manipulate. It was how he lured so many people into his webs, his golden strings of fate... But here he was, waiting like an actor to perform a play, poised in a pounce for _you_ to see. Deep down, he wanted this to be perfect. It was a special day, indeed.

That almost made him feel a little more like himself. His shoulders, which he didn't realize had been so tense, relaxed. His threads gave off a stronger glow. The air around him had already gone stale but he barely noticed, if at all. Your wet footsteps on the tile floor behind the wall were just too tempting. His hand rested on the knob, gripping it gingerly.

On the other side, you were combing out your hair in the fogged-up mirror, cleared only by the careless swipes of your hand. The night had been carrying on as usual since you reassured yourself. You knew that another boring movie was ahead. Sighing, you muttered to your reflection, thinking it was only you who could hear.

"What are you doing with yourself, (Y/N)? You're a trainwreck... A lonely, paranoid, trainwr-"

Your sentence was lost in your throat as you caught movement in the mirror. Behind you, you could see it. The bathroom door was opening, albeit very slowly, allowing trickles of what you thought was your hall and kitchen's lights to flow in. 

You breathing hitched as you turned your back on your reflection, wielding your comb like some dangerous weapon in the direction of the looming shadow in your doorway. Water crept down your back like a cold sweat and time seemed to slow to a crawl. You prayed for silence but were instead gifted with a burst of deep laughter- a laugh that didn't belong to you. Your blood turned to ice. 

"Don't look so frightened, (Y/N)... My dear, sweet (Y/N.)" The way the words rolled off his tongue could've almost been romantic but in no way did they soothe you. You could've sworn that there was something eerily familiar about his presence. He spoke as if he knew you. 

"Who the hell are you? How did you get into my house?!" You managed to summon the courage to yell at the stranger, as if on pure instinct, despite how your voice trembled. The closer he got to you, the stronger that feeling of dread had become. That fear, loneliness, and paranoia you felt since you were a child expanded to pull you down more and more. You caught a glimpse of his smile, a golden gleam.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... What a sharp tongue. That's no way to address a friend," he purred, creeping closer as to back you against the sink, "Living alone all these years, pushing everybody away, you must be rather lonely, (Y/N)." 

Your fear took over when you realized that not only his mouth but his eyes were giving off that same, inhuman glow. The light illuminated him, his gray skin, and the dark stains of tears that dripped down to his smile. In the moment, you failed to notice the webs from his fingertips creeping into the room and making it into a cage of its own.

"Get out... Or else." Your fragile warning must've fallen on deaf ears because his smile only widened. Before you knew it, the end of your comb was caught in his tangles of silk and was being yanked from your grasp. He lifted his hand, dangling your makeshift weapon over your head just before tossing it aside like some forgotten piece of garbage. Your hand, now empty, made itself useful, in spite of him, by securing your towel into place. 

He could've killed you then. Right there, in your own bathroom. You were alone, vulnerable and lost. Yet, something behind your eyes convinced him not to. He saw your fight, your will to keep going, a spark waiting to be ignited. A spark he needed to snuff out before he could really make you _his_. Although you were helpless, you weren't exactly _hopeless_. He figured that out when he raised his orange and gold tendrils to snatch you by your pretty little throat. Your (color) eyes met his in a dangerous clash and he knew that it wasn't time yet. He couldn't do it.

He mentally scolded himself when he heard your voice again. He knew you had seen his hesitation, that conflict inside of him

"What do you want from me?" Your tone was more bitter than you had hoped it to be. You could've sworn you saw his glare grow brighter with anger but calm again as he thought of a reply.

"I know what it's like," Showtime. He'd make you believe there was no better choice than him, no matter how long it took. "How much it hurts to be forgotten by everybody around you, how it feels like you're drowning..."

When he saw your anger and fear briefly contort into sympathy, he knew he was on the right track. Your guard had been lowered and he couldn't help but indulge in the thought that you'd invite him into your life, your home. Once you did, it would only be a matter of time before he could take over your thoughts.

"No one knows you. You're a drop of water in the ocean... Let me help you, let me make everything all better...~"

He reached out his hand, gray fingers tenderly caressing your cheek mere seconds before you yanked away, disgusted. He was cold as ice, you could feel the sting lingering where his fingers had trailed.

" _Bullshit._ " You saw his eyes widen as you growled. "You don't know me, you..." You struggled to find a word to describe the man- no... The _thing_ in front of you. "... You _demon._ "

You could've sworn you saw something dark flicker by his expression for just a moment before he feigned hurt. He let out a hiss of pain just before you felt the tickle of string curl around your neck. Your muscles grew tense as you glared at him. 

"Such a beautiful woman... How horrible of you to throw your life away... But don't be afraid, I will return for you, my darling (Y/N)."

Just like that, the world dimmed around you. It was like you had fallen asleep and when you awoke again, all was as it was. The man was gone. The only evidence of his existence had been your comb, tossed and forgotten in the corner. That creeping sense of guilt returned just as your sorrow was relieved. It was an uncontrollable weight chained to your heart, leaving you to wonder what had just happened.

Your night didn't proceed as normal after that. The shock must've set in after you dressed for bed. You couldn't sleep because that haunting feeling of being watched just wouldn't go away. You found yourself standing alone in your kitchen, a cup of water in hand but you didn't take a sip. As much as you tried to think of anything else, your mind kept wandering back to what had happened, trying to convince you that it wasn't real, that you just hadn't been getting enough sleep lately, that you were just drunk. You knew you weren't.

By the time you got yourself to lay down, you had paced around your home until three in the morning. It was the first time you had been in your bedroom for months. It was colder than you last remembered. You kept your door shut and your light on, fearing the dreams that would wake you when you finally closed your eyes.

For a moment, you wondered if what you saw was a sign. Then, you wondered if it was a memory, frozen over by time and reawoken but something darker. You thought about his voice, what he said to you. You remembered his eyes, you saw them when you blinked. It was all so familiar.

_"How horrible of you to throw your life away..."_

Shaking your head to clear away the nasty reminder of him, you let your eyes flutter shut. Your light trickled in but it was a comforting warmth that beckoned you to sleep. For a while, you stayed there, unmoving, battling the onslaught of emotions and questions your brain threw at you. It was both dreadful and relieving when you finally slipped off into a dream, blissfully forgetting about your alarm, armed and ready to wake you in a few hours for your shift at work.


End file.
